Chapter 37
He had come back from his first tour to Kinnaur and Spiti tired and silent.
She had expected the tour to bring him alive, as alive as he had been before leaving for Kinnaur.
If anything, it had sucked some more life out of him.
She had asked, and he had answered with curt honesty — “It’s not the work that I can stand behind, but it’s work all the same. ”
She had not brought it up again, simply because he smiled less when the topic of his work was opened.
He smiled less in general. And when he did, she would feel her heart skip beats like a new lover.
It reminded her of a time when she had seen him smile, really smile that illegal smile for the first time.
Those butterflies of first love were now Telly Tubbies in her belly, tumbling down every time he played with Yathaarth.
He would smile and laugh the most with Yathaarth, playing with him in the sloped garden of the bungalow. They would tumble down the grassy stretch like a pair of Telly Tubbies and he would always, always, always push him to go on his own but keep himself below him to catch his head and body safely.
Atharva sometimes did come into his element too.
He would sit with Daniyal and have long conversations on the bench outside the house, he would banter with Noora, he would make his secret recipe Maggie dinner for the entire household.
He would laugh with her, tease her now and then, be completely hers when they were by themselves.
But every time she proposed they do something out of the house — like go to a cafe and try the famous sourdough pizza with french fries, or take a walk down the market or visit the Christ Church at the hour of sunset, he would find something else to do.
Like right now.
She had asked him to come shopping with her down to the store to get kulfi sticks for their dinner party. He had softly nudged her to take Shiva along, citing research work. Iram knew he did a lot of that lately. She also knew that most of that work was staring glassily at his iPad.
“Hiiiieee!”
She glanced up from pushing Yathaarth’s stroller up the slope of their house. Amaal was standing at the gate, hands folded together, bouncing on the balls of her feet.
“You are early!” Iram grinned, quickening her pace, pushing a lot of weight up the hill — a ten-kg baby boy who was suddenly craning up and wiggling from his stroller, two kgs of tomatoes, a litre of milk and a bag of kulfi sticks hanging from the handlebars.
She needn’t have worried because Amaal was already running downhill, jumping.
Iram began to hold out some bags when she reached inside and unbuckled the baby.
“Ooooh!” She picked Yathaarth up. “You are heavy, and so balanced!” She bounced him in her arms, bringing him close to her face — “Remember me?”
Yathaarth grinned, holding her face with his palms like he held it on their video calls.
“He thinks you are my phone screen,” Iram supplied. “And thanks for the help.”
“I took the heaviest load,” she swung him expertly on her hip now that Yathaarth balanced himself like a pro. Iram pushed the stroller, walking her up.
“I am so happy right now you can’t imagine,” Amaal pressed her mouth to Yathaarth’s cheek and held it there. “He smells so good. Seeing you… it’s like Srinagar wasn’t Srinagar and here it is Srinagar.”
Iram laughed — “You have just seen me and Arth. Wait till you see the troop inside…”
“I saw them. All of them except Janab.”
“Where is Atharva?”
“Doing some work upstairs. Your observatory, I am assuming…” Amaal cuddled Yathaarth closer as they crossed the gate. “How is he?”
“He is good.”
“I talk to you all the time. But with him, it’s… unless there’s a work-related conversation…”
“He is being mindful of keeping his distance, Amaal. You are the Press Secretary of Qureshi. It doesn’t look good.”
“I know. But I am his friend too.”
Iram didn’t have an answer to that. She knew he was consciously keeping his distance from Qureshi, Sarah, Samar, and hence, Amaal by extension.
The only calls she saw regularly on his phone were from Adil and Zorji.
Even they had dwindled in frequency lately.
It was like everybody had moved on in their lives.
After all, who stopped their lives for you?
“Where is Samar?” Iram inquired, changing the topic.
“He was in Solan this afternoon. He should be here any time.”
“How is that going? He spends time between Srinagar and Himachal. You are busy every day of the week with this rare Sunday off. Are you both planning to…” she trailed.
“Planning to what?”
“Think about marriage?”
Amaal shook her head. It wasn't a coy shaking of head. It was a solemn shaking of head. A decisive one.
“Why?”
They reached the door of the bungalow and Yathaarth made a noise.
“Babaaa!”
They glanced up in time to see Atharva coming down the spiral staircase, looking dapper in his turtleneck thanks to the dipping evening temperatures.
“Amaal,” he called out, walking down to them and taking the stroller from her to carry it up the steps. “When did you come?”
“Fifteen minutes ago, and you were busy. On a Sunday evening.”
“My days are all the same,” he smiled easily, taking the bags off the stroller. He glanced at Iram — “You carried all this on your own?”
“You said you are busy,” Iram pointed.
“I asked you to take Shiva.”
“It wasn't much and I pushed it all.”
Grey eyes bore into hers, challenging. But he held his tongue, passing the bags to Shiva who scuttled out, wiping his hands on a rag. He looked ecstatic today, cooking for more than six people after ages.
“How are you, Shiva?” Amaal waved.
He nodded his head from side to side in glee, a rare smile on his face. Srinagar was indeed here today.
“Samar didn’t come?” Atharva glanced behind her.
“He is on his way…”
Car honks sounded at the gate. They turned, and his car zoomed up at lightning speed, parking outside the door.
Iram observed Atharva. He did not look at Samar any differently.
They had been working together these last few months.
But she also knew that the dynamics had shifted now.
Atharva did not say it out loud, but in his consultation calls, approval-requesting emails, in slight alterations in tone as he spoke to Samar — she could read that Samar was the head of HDP and Atharva his associate.
“Am I late?” Samar entered the house with bags from Trishool Bakers, one of Shimla’s most renowned bakeries.
His question was casual, but his eyes panned across the room and settled on Amaal, a tad bit longer.
His usually solemn face stretched into a smile.
Iram followed the exchange and saw Amaal wipe Yathaarth’s drooling mouth with her thumb.
“Give him here, I have to apply his gum medicine.” Iram reached for her son, who was squirming to get down. Amaal deposited him on the floor and he took off like a toy whose key had been turned and was now let loose.
“He runs so fast,” Samar’s shocked voice reverberated.
“He rolls even faster,” Atharva quipped.
Iram didn’t have time to follow that conversation as she chased her son.
He probably caught the words ‘gum’ and ‘medicine’ together.
Lately, his teething had caused them a lot of sleepless nights, even more daytime meltdowns and some frustrated fights too.
Atharva and her were both tired on a daily basis after spending nights helpless as their son broke more teeth.
“Arth! Enough now…” she chased him as he ran straight into Daniyal’s open room. He began to push under his bed when she caught his chubby little calves and pulled him out. Even in escape, her son let out his naughty laugh. Iram grabbed him and settled him on her hip — “You love your gum medicine.”
“No gum!”
“Yes gum. You don’t like it when I apply it but then it is yummy-yummy, isn’t it?”
“No gum!” He squirmed.
“I’ll give you your ice lolly after that.”
He pouted, hopeful, but continued to squirm.
Iram knew there was no way out but to force her way into his mouth.
So like the expert she had become in handling wobbly bundles, she grabbed him under her arm, strode to the medicine cabinet, singlehandedly opened his tooth gel and went into his mouth. He made scary noises.
“What happened?!” Amaal came running, Samar and Atharva on her heels.
“All done.”
“Iram, he is sobbing!” Amaal began to coo at him.
“Can you see tears in his eyes?” She packed up the gel.
“Look at his face,” Amaal caressed his cheeks. “Oooh, baby, what happened to you?”
“Tearless sobs,” Atharva spelled out.
“Is that even a thing?” Samar inquired.
“You are a doctor, how come you don’t know that?”
“I’m sorry, I did not treat toddlers on the front.”
“Nothing is wrong with him. He will be smiling in a moment now.”
Iram ferried him into the kitchen, pulled out one of his frozen ice pacifiers and popped it into his mouth. All sobs became smiles when she came out. The party had already settled in the hall by then.
“See, good as new.” She showed him to Amaal, who opened her arms. Iram deposited Yathaarth there but he slid down and made a dash for Atharva.
“When did he become a Papa’s boy?” Amaal gaped.
“He was always a Baba’s boy,” Atharva sat him up on his lap and he pushed his body into that groove between Atharva’s arm and armpit, sucking on the ice in his mouth.
“It’s surreal to see you like this,” Amaal’s voice softened. “I mean, I saw you become a father and all. But to see you as a father after this long gap is like seeing it for the first time.”
Atharva smiled noncommittally. His no-comment smile. Those had also multiplied lately.
“How is everything there?” Iram asked, changing the topic yet again. It was like she was perpetually walking on eggshells and helping others navigate that route around Atharva to keep him as pain-free as possible.